The Return of NiGHTS
by americananime
Summary: NiGHTS returns to Nightmare Tower (Shortly after Paint or Scars ) ... but is he really back for the true reasons?


NiGHTS's Return  
  
By: americananime  
  
A/N: I was TRYING to finish "Watership Down" (Which is a really good book and not as boring or long as it appears) when this idea was tugging me. It's 11:00 p. m and I'm supposed to be up at seven; I suppose I'll just stay up all night, and then stay up all day. I've passed two days solid doing that, so it won't hurt me to do it again. Anyway, NiGHTS has returned to his old ways -- or has he? Taking place after "Paint or Scars." You don't have to read it to understand this one, but as always it's recommended.  
  
Declaimer: I own nothing. Sonic Team owned everything untill there was Nintendo. Death to Pokefreaks. Jean Grey is the weakest link; Goodbye.  
  
* * *  
  
Reala stared out at the rotating magnets that floated around the darkness of Nightmare Tower. It would really be about noon in Waking World time, but his world remained forever in darkness.  
  
And that wasn't just in a physical sense. Reala felt like he was trapped in a cloak of darkness; the blanket of a nights sky with no stars holding him and suffocating him.  
  
He needed to move. True enough, after spending hours upon end staring out his window last night had surely cured his desire for seeing the view, but there wasn't really anything better to do. It was, of course, true that not many dreamers came into their world during their daytime. Anyway, the search for the Red Ideya seemed to be at a pause, a long reflective pause, in Nightmare Tower.  
  
But the thoughts of NiGHTS flowed heavily in Wizeman's mind. He was bothered by the fact that his creation had gone astray, and he was bothered that he could do nothing about it.  
  
Reala knew his fault just as well as he did; Wizeman had been inaccurate when dealing out willpower. Too little for Reala and too much for NiGHTS, of course, and that was where the problems had begun.  
  
Reala never exactly obeyed Wizeman, because his own free will allowed him to do just about anything, but he twisted the orders he was given in some obstinate way. When NiGHTS was still around, he had done the same; playing a dangerous game on the brink of trouble.  
  
But Wizeman had always loved his creations, or as much loved them as a creature of his place could. That is, many handed wizards with world domination set on their mind don't have much time for parental love. Reala rolled his eyes at the thought of Wizeman.  
  
He was still looking out the window when he saw a small purple figure, down on the ground and away from the magnets, walking toward the tower's entrance. The figure walked like he owned the place; in fact, he might have, should Wizeman be dead.  
  
However, Wizeman wasn't dead, and NiGHTS was still a fugitive with a shoot- on-sight order. And Reala was still a soldier that had to carry out that shoot-on-sight order whenever he saw it fit.  
  
But he didn't have a gun, so he flew out of his window, carefully trying to avoid the magnets and sitting himself down in front of NiGHTS.  
  
"Reala," He said, softly. It was obvious that the sleepless night had taken toil on both of their strength.  
  
"NiGHTS," Reala said, softly, trying to ignore the little part of his mind that wanted to obey orders.  
  
"You've put it back on," By this, of course, NiGHTS meant his brother's mask of paint. Reala nodded, shortly, in a 'what-did-you-expect' sort of way. NiGHTS understood without a word.  
  
"I'm here for good now, Reala," He announced. Reala stared at him for a moment, and then a small smile, which turned into a smirk, played on his face.  
  
"Is the great NiGHTS here to conquer Nightmare Tower, as well as peacefully rule Nightopia as well?" He ask in amusement.  
  
NiGHTS shook his head, a grin on his face.  
  
"I don't rule Nightopia, or not anymore. Seems the Nightopians have suddenly gotten a large dosage of street-smarts in a very short time," NiGHTS's grin widened, and Reala had to add his own sadistic, twisted smirk.  
  
"Think Wizeman will believe you?"  
  
"Most likely not," NiGHTS looked like he didn't have a care in the world.  
  
"I suppose you want me to get you in there, right?" NiGHTS nodded, and Reala gave gruff consent. The purple brother bent over, and Reala roughly grabbed him, making a great show of dragging NiGHTS toward the tower. NiGHTS didn't put on too bad a performance for resistance, either. Kicking, screaming, biting, and several other things went on as they trudged alone. Reala knew that NiGHTS couldn't be realistic enough in his performance, because this would be the part that was tricky.  
  
The guard at the gate, a lower Nightmaren, glanced at Reala and NiGHTS as they approached.  
  
"Good gosh, is that ..." The other Nightmaren guard nodded in distaste.  
  
"Why isn't Reala following the shoot on sight orders, then?"  
  
"He's got a soft spot for that brother o' his, I tell you."  
  
Wizeman threw several things across the room, immensely unhappy. He was at a loss for Ideyas, quite literally this time. There were less and less dreamers, because less and less people slept soundly at night. And that would mean that the Red Ideya would become more and more rare to get.  
  
He sighed, looking up at the ceiling and growling.  
  
A rough knock at his door came, and Wizeman turned in an impatient matter.  
  
"Yes, yes, what is it? Get in here!" He yelled through the door. There was a scuffling sound, and the door burst open to reveal Reala holding NiGHTS firmly.  
  
A wide smile spread happily across Wizeman's face. He was glad to see NiGHTS again; his subject of curiosity and often of torture had returned to him by means of his other plaything, Reala.  
  
NiGHTS looked up, with a sort of calm patience in his eyes, and stopped harassing Reala.  
  
"Why were you stupid enough to come here?" Wizeman ask, no emotion showing in his voice. NiGHTS spent a moment in grand silence, and then made his reply.  
  
"I'm changing sides," He said, trying his best to look tough and evil.  
  
"Changing sides, are you? What's the sudden change for?" It was easy to tell that Reala was trying hard to keep quiet, but Wizeman ignored him.  
  
"Civil war in Nightopia, generally miserably, and cold," NiGHTS replied. Come to look at him, he was a good deal thinner than he used to be. Then again, in Nightopia, dreams tended to be of the happy, lighthearted sort that gave off barley enough dream energy to survive. In Nightmare, the dreams ran thick and heavy, and more frequently, resulting in the Nightmarens having much more energy than the renegade, despite his buoyancy.  
  
"Civil war, huh?" Wizeman's face grew in a distorted smirk.  
  
"You may leave, Reala," He said, removing the whip from the wall. It took all of Reala's determination and will power to leave his brother alone with that whip. He didn't want NiGHTS to be covered in scars. Somehow, NiGHTS had always seemed the younger of the two, more innocent and more playful, and Reala didn't want him to know how it felt to feel the true wrath of Wizeman.  
  
Reala left, hearing screams of pain emitted from the room behind him, and looked to his left and his right, not sure where to go.  
  
He decided to go down to the Low Academy, a place where Wizeman was inventing and training new Nightmaren, almost the level of Reala and NiGHTS.  
  
Making an appearance there would scare the students into better performance, and it certainly would be easier to returning to his own room, in the quiet with himself.  
  
The Lower Academy took up exactly one floor with three dormitories (Teachers, males, and females), multiple classrooms including a martial arts classroom, as well as instructions on how to create a Nightmare and more fighting training. There was also a large lab, where Wizeman daily made new creations. He wasn't putting his soul into the process anymore; they were coming out all useless clones of Reala and NiGHTS, not in appearance but still practically the same creatures with less quality.  
  
Reala knew why, if no one else in Nightmare tower did; Wizeman had a weakness. His weakness was that he didn't want to throw himself into a project and a creature, one that would be a pride and joy, just so it could turn on him later. That was how it was after NiGHTS, and Reala couldn't do anything about it.  
  
The Lower Level Students, LLS, as Reala preferred to call them, were studying the art of flight. Some of the attempts were utterly pitiful, others were promising but none were quite to the level of perfection that Reala practically thought was mandatory.  
  
"Lord Reala," Said one of the teachers, bowing shortly. Reala gave a nod of consent, watching the students perform, one by one. They weren't very good, and they certainly wouldn't get good marks in Reala's book. But Reala was not a teacher, and for a good reason. Wizeman didn't trust him with these new students.  
  
There were maybe fifty or more, each one with a gruesome name that was utterly cliche. Granted, Wizeman had made the same mistake with NiGHTS, but Reala was in pretty clear ground for originality points.  
  
"What are you people doing, learning to crash?" Reala demanded, his harsh voice barking out each word. They all looked utterly embarrassed as Reala took flight around the room, paralooped the air twice, and then sat down again in the center of the room, glaring at the row of students.  
  
"That," He said. "Is how it's done."  
  
Hours later, Reala returned from the LL School, and training the LLS, exhausted. He tried to sleep, but disturbing images kept him awake for hours.  
  
Late, late in the night, a voice traveled through the stone walls of the room. Reala leapt out of his bed, going to the wall and pressing himself against the cool marble.  
  
"Reala?" Said a soft but broken voice from behind the wall. It was NiGHTS. Reala studied the bricks, trying to find the right one, and finally pulled one out slowly and silently. NiGHTS's eyes were the only thing visible, but it was better than nothing. They wouldn't have to listen through stone walls anyway.  
  
"How bad was it?" Reala ask, in true concern for his younger brother. NiGHTS blinked back at him, and that was when Reala noticed it. They weren't strait like Reala's; instead, they were slanted and came in two slashes across the eye in a slanted line.  
  
"It wasn't as bad as I remembered it," NiGHTS fibbed. Reala looked at him, and then turned to a small table in his room, grabbing to cans of paint and two brushes.  
  
"I think you'll need this," He whispered. Through talking, Reala taught NiGHTS to put it on just right, and the only visible differences between the two were cloths, floppies, and angles of scars.  
  
"Thank you," NiGHTS said, softly.  
  
"Go to sleep, you need it," Reala said, tucking the brick back into place and then crashing into his own bed at such speed that he almost injured himself. 


End file.
